Draco Molfoy: Hogwarts
by theshikamarusfangirl
Summary: This is life in his Hogwart years, as Draco Malfoy, the boy who devoted many years of his life to the Light side and his love, Harry Potter, knows it. Explanation for Draco's thoughts and actions thoughout 7 years. DMHP/ HPDM/ Drarry. Slash. Book-based.
1. Chapter 1

The Malfoy Manor was eerily silent, even with the uncountable number of house elves. It was in the dead of the night, 10:04 pm exactly. It was the night before Draco Malfoy and his parents had to leave for Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies, stay the night in an inn there, then leave for Hogwarts. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, right in front of his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was on one of the many expensive armchairs in her son's room, elegantly perched on the Slytherin-green seat. A kind smile graced her face, which seemed unmarred by age.

"Draco, listen carefully. Father didn't want me to tell you this before, but he has given his permission, now that you're going to Hogwarts. After all, you couldn't possibly grow up in a pureblood family and not know about the Boy Who Lived.

Now, the Dark Lord used to be very powerful, as your father had told you. But this is what he didn't tell you: there was a prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney, who I believe teaches Divination in Hogwarts, in the year 1980. '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies .' _Now, the boy of the prophecy could be Neville Longbottom, a Pureblood, or Harry Potter, a Halfblood."

"You Know Wh-…I mean the D-dark Lord chose the pureblood, right?" Eleven-year-old Draco interrupted eagerly. Narcissa pretended not to have heard the slip, but instead she continued.

"No, He didn't. He chose Harry Potter, a Halfblood like himself. The Dark Lord felt that He would pose a greater threat, you see. He went to the house James and Lily Potter lived with their baby, Harry. The secret keeper of the house was a traitor. He had betrayed his friends, and sold them out to the Dark Lord. Therefore, the Dark Lord was able to enter the Potters' home easily and kill them. However, He was unable to kill Harry, who wasn't even a year old. No one knows why Avada Kedavra didn't end baby Harry's life, but instead backfired on the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord lost his powers and had to flee, leaving Harry Potter with only a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He was then sent to live with his Muggle relatives. It's thanks to him that you aren't already in your marking ceremony right now. If the Dark Lord had his full powers, as the son of an Inner Circle Death Eater about to attend Hogwarts, you might already be marked and doing missions for the Dark Lord with an unregistered wand, however young you are."

Little Draco seemed to be deep in thought. "It must be the power of love. If I were his mum, I would protect him. I would sacrifice myself for him. It must have been Mrs. Potter's love that protected him from the curse."

"Don't let your father hear you talking about the 'Power of Love', or he would most certainly not be sending you to the school Albus Dumbledore created," Narcissa chided, but the smile on her face said, 'It's possible,'

"Harry must be very alone….He's an orphan now. I wonder if his Muggle family is treating him well? I wish I could comfort him." Narcissa was surprised by the level of maturity Draco was showing. Most people would be thinking of Harry Potter as some kind of immortal. They most certainly wouldn't consider the boy Harry's well- being. In fact she herself hadn't thought about how such a little boy was dealing with all these until now.

"What was it you said? I am afraid I didn't hear you well enough the first time." A cold, merciless voice rang out. Draco jumped up as Narcissa spun around. Lucius Malfoy was standing at the door, leaning on the pure silver cane Draco had come to know and fear.

"No son of mine would be showing sympathy to that filth which _temporarily_ defeated the Dark Lord." Lucius sneered.

"I said, I wish I could comfort him. And I will! When I go to Hogwarts, I'll befriend him! Just you watch!"

"Well, if you are so adamant, I'll make a deal with you. If you can befriend Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, before the Dark Lord arises again, I'll spare you from being marked, as you always begged for."

"…Deal. _I'll show you!_"

Narcissa could only watch in horrification as her son fell deeper into the trap his father had laid.


	2. Madam Malkin's

It was his lucky day. He was sure of it. The boy of his obsession since the previous day, The Harry Potter, was in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions while he was being fitted for his school robes. Nothing could go wrong now.

The scar was a giveaway. As soon as the boy had set his foot into the shop, Draco had noticed it. A lightning bolt-like mark across his forehead, slightly to the right. Harry was what people would consider to be handsome, albeit scrawny. Ebony locks piled messily on top of his head, round-rimmed glasses shading his shockingly gorgeous green eyes. Naturally tanned skin. Draco was mesmerized.

"Hello. Hogwarts, too?" Draco smiled at him.

"Yes."

Look cool, he told himself. Cool and composed. Show him that you have power. Draco knew that Harry was a Halfblood, raised by his muggle relatives. However, his father was a Potter, and Potters were a powerful and rich Pureblood family. Harry would definitely want to hear about the Malfoy family's wealth and power, to convince him to befriend Draco, for the Potter and Malfoy family to be united. Even though Draco rather hoped that he would befriend him for being Draco, and not Draco Malfoy.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," That was partly false, but Harry didn't know it, and didn't need to. Draco's father was currently in a purebloods-only teashop in Knockturn Alley. But, he couldn't show any weakness. By saying that his father wasn't there to shop for his Hogwarts supplies with him, he was implying that his father didn't care about him, and that was a subject to be picked on for. However much he wanted to tell Harry about him, the real him, not the Pureblood facade, he couldn't. Yet. Well, at least it wasn't a complete lie. His mother was looking at wands. Next, to impress him…

"Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms." That should show that he had a certain extend of power over his parents.

"I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." That should show that he had ambition and will to overcome rules, as well as the power and ability to do so. Harry should be plenty inpressed.

Yet Harry was looking at him as if he was some spoilt brat. Well, there was always the risk that his phrasing would make him seem pampered. It's better to include him, to make him see that he wasn't that different from Draco. They were just born into good families, that's all. Draco knew that Harry's muggle family must spoil him, being the Boy Who Lived and all.

"Have you got your own broom?" Draco inquired, giving Harry a chance to talk about himself.

"No." Maybe the raven was shy. Unused to talking to strangers.

"Play Quiditch at all?" That should set him off. Which boy doesn't love Quiditch? Draco himself was a closet fan of Chudley Cannons, much to his father's disgust.

"No." Maybe the boy just didn't like talking much. But, at that point, Harry looked puzzled and curious. It wasn't possible that he didn't know what Quiditch was, right? Of course not. He must have wanted to ask if Draco plays but is too shy to ask.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." That should show Harry that he had excellent Quiditch skills, especially so since his father himself had said so. Agreeing to it would show that he had self-confidence, something one definitely looks for in a friend. That was fake, as well. Father had never bothered to supervise his flying sessions, let alone praise his flying skills.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?" Harry doesn't seem to be interested in Quiditch, so he should ask him something all new Hogwarts students are interested in: the house they'll be in.

"No." Harry's face flushed in embarrassment. Draco felt he should comfort him somewhat, so he did.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, won't you?" That should show his strong family linage, being in Slytherin.

"Mmm," The boy mumbled as the enchanted measuring tape took down the measurements of his waist. Maybe he didn't like talking about Hogwarts? That's right, he must be nervous about meeting so many wizards in school. Draco felt that he should point out something on the streets to talk about instead.

"I say, look at that man!" Hagrid was standing outside the robes store, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't go in.

"That's Hagrid," Harry looked pleased. Luck must have guided him to hit a better subject at last. "He works at Hogwarts."

Harry spoke more than a word in 1 sentence! Draco was determined to continue on the subject.

"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Distaste peeked through Harry's pleasant features. It must have been because he got his facts wrong. Hagrid was _gamekeeper_, not _servant_! Crap.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." That showed he had good connection – knowing in detail what happens, even in Hogwarts. Calling Hagrid a savage showed that he was superior to him. Draco felt kind of sorry for insulting the half-giant like that, but it was necessary.

"I think he's brilliant," Harry told Draco coldly. Hmm…. The boy was testing him. To see if a difference in opinion would shake his believes. Well, his morals were only pawns in his game of chess, and often not very strong ones, he was taught. He had already sold out his believes.

"_Do_ you?" Draco replied with a slight sneer. He silently congratulated himself. That sneer turned out fine. But Draco was a little unnerved by the way the other boy thought. He had quite liked the idea that Harry would be a straightforward, bold person that Draco could act like himself around. He _had_ to change the subject before he start to look like he didn't like the boy. Facial expressions weren't his specialty.

"Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" Oh hell. Smooth going, Draco. Parents probably were a taboo subject with the orphan.

"They're dead," The boy said shortly, frowning. Great. He really screwed up this time.

"Oh, sorry," That didn't sound very sincere, did it? He'd been taught to be emotionless at _all _times_. _But Harry didn't seem to understand his inability to express his emotions.

"But they were _our kind_, weren't they?" Pureblood ideals solve everything.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." That definitely wasn't the expected and ideal reaction. Oh gods, _why_ couldn't the boy just forgive and forget? Doing so wasn't allowed for a Malfoy, but for the Light side's hero, it was expected. He was getting nervous, which definitely wasn't a good thing. When he got nervous he started blabbering about blood ranks. It's an unshakable habit.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families." This habit was drilled in by Lucius Malfoy himself, personally and with the help of his silver cane. Well, Crabbe and Goyle's mothers were pleased with his words, saying, "What a _darling_ boy you have, Cissi, a young lad and already so clear of his responsibilities. Just like his father." Draco didn't want to be 'just like his father'; he wanted to play with Blaise and Pansy who came to his house. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to make decent playmates. But now, he had no choice. If he couldn't befriend Harry Potter, he would have to be 'just like his father': A bloody, groveling Death Eater.

"What is your surname, anyway?" Harry still didn't look like he's going to forget his mistake anytime soon. Maybe he just wasn't happy with listening to Draco brag. Maybe HE wanted to brag about the Potters. Asking for his surname would give the boy an opportunity to talk about his own family.

"That's you done, my dear," Madam Malkin patted the raven on his shoulder as the tape rolled itself up. Draco groaned inwardly.

Harry's expression showed relief and not reluctance. Draco knew for sure that he'd messed up their first meeting. As he was always told, make a good first impression and you've won half the battle. He'd lost half the battle.

He watched the boy hop down from the footstool in a simple, yet oddly graceful movement.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Against all odds, he had hoped that the boy would reply, "I hope so," or "Sure." He wanted to speak to the boy again, and it wasn't just because of the deal between him and his father.

Harry Potter walked out as if he hadn't spoken.


End file.
